Let It Be Love (35 page)

“If I am wrong,” Fiona said slowly, “if Jonathon doesn’t care for me, doesn’t love me, if he is not intent upon marriage, I shall have to face that.” She drew a deep breath. “But I have no regrets about joining him in his bed. I should have, I suppose, it’s quite wicked of me not to and probably stupid as well, but there you have it.”

“Good.” Judith nodded firmly. “Regrets are a dreadful thing. One cannot change the past, be it a decade ago or simply this morning. It is a waste of time to try to do so.”

Fiona shrugged. “I’m not a child, I know my own mind and I know as well the consequences of my actions. I wasn’t simply swept away by blind passion. I love him, and regardless of what happens I shall have the memory of being with him for the rest of my days.”

“There are worse things to have in one’s past than a good memory or two. Particularly if it involves love.” Judith gave her a quick hug, then turned to go. “Oh, and by the way, I still want a copy of your book.”

Fiona hadn’t considered the book at all since this morning. If she was going to marry Jonathon, it was no longer necessary to proceed with it. Still, Jonathon had said it was in the hands of the printers and orders had been taken. Who knew how many copies had been produced at this point?

Judith leaned closer in a confidential manner. “I’ve always wanted to know someone named Anonymous. It makes me feel as though I am the protector of great secrets. Besides, it will serve as something of a keepsake for us all. Probably not something you will want to show your children. Or grandchildren. Although, perhaps my children…”

Fiona laughed. “I shall see to it that you receive a copy.”

“I told Jonathon at the very start that I wanted one. And as he was only going to have a handful printed altogether, I did want to make sure I did not miss the opportunity to acquire one of my own.”

“A handful altogether?” Fiona shook her head. “You mean initially, don’t you? Not altogether. Just a few copies printed initially to use to solicit subscriptions and orders, that sort of thing?”

“No, I—” Judith’s eyes widened and she nodded a shade too quickly. “Yes, of course, that’s exactly what I mean. Why, I certainly couldn’t have meant anything else. Imagine gettinginitially confused with altogether ?” She laughed an odd sort of high-pitched laugh. “Obviously, too little sleep and entirely too much fun last night has left me somewhat confused today.”

Fiona stared at her. Judith didn’t seem the least bit confused, but she had a distinctly guilty air about her. And Fiona doubted Judith ever felt guilty about anything. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I really must take my leave.” Judith started toward the door. Unease gripped Fiona. “Judith? Is there something I should know? About the book?”

Judith paused in midstep and turned back to Fiona. “One of the hallmarks of friendship, of true friendship, is the ability to keep one another’s confidences. I would no more reveal to Jonathon something you had confided to me than I would tell you a secret he had told. At least not deliberately. Please do not ask me to do so.”

“But—”

“Isn’t it enough that you have found one another?”

“Well, certainly, but—”

“Do a few insignificant, oh, I don’t know,deceptions , I suppose, really matter in the grander scheme of things?”

“I daresay it depends on the deception,” Fiona said slowly.

“Nothing of any great significance, I can assure you that.” Fiona’s voice was firm. “It’s the kind of silly thing that you will laugh about in your dotage.”

“Tell the story to our children and grandchildren?”

“Something like that.” Judith nodded and a few minutes later took her leave. How very odd that was. There was obviously something aboutA Fair Surrender that Judith was not telling her, although Fiona couldn’t imagine what it might be. Jonathon and Oliver’s original scheme was to have only a few copies printed initially and print additional copies as orders came in. It made perfect sense, although she’d never truly believed the book would ever make the kind of money she needed. Indeed, her purpose for working on it at all had simply been to spend as much time as possible with Jonathon. But Jonathon had been confident. Why, he’d guaranteed a profit for her. It was very sweet of him and quite gallant and…

And there was definitely something wrong. Something that had to do with the printing of the books, be it initially oraltogether . She could wait and question Jonathon, of course, but it might well be better if Fiona had the answers she sought long before his arrival.

She had used the book as an excuse to pay one improper call today. Perhaps it was time to use it to pay yet another call.

Fiona stared unseeing out the carriage window. It was extraordinarily cold outside and not considerably warmer inside the carriage. In the back of her mind, she noted the cold and was grateful for it and the way it numbed her senses. Numb was preferable to anything else at the moment. She had no idea what to think and, worse, what to feel.

It had been a most informative outing. Sir Ephraim Cadwallender, publisher ofCadwallender’s Weekly World Messenger and the proprietor of an impressively vast printing company, had been most charming if a bit taken aback to meet her, although he did recall having briefly seen her at the Effington Christmas Ball. Fiona was most charming herself. And completely dishonest. She’d made up a ridiculous story about Lord Helmsley having mentioned a book he’d been writing involving artworks of an explicit nature. Well, surely the older gentleman could understand how her curiosity would compel her to seek out the book? Not for the art, of course, although she had spent many years living in Italy and considered herself well versed in art, but for Lord Helmsley’s story. And, as his lordship was far too modest to ever show it to her himself, she thought perhaps she could purchase the book for herself.

Sir Ephraim had chuckled and said he would be more than happy to sell her a copy if of course they existed. He’d explained that even though Lord Helmsley had had the lithographs produced and the book printed with an unseemly haste and at an exorbitant cost, the entire endeavor was nothing more than an elaborate hoax. But then he’d said even as a boy Lord Helmsley had enjoyed a good joke regardless of the price. Sir Ephraim didn’t know all the details, but there were a mere half dozen copies of the book printed and delivered to Lord Helmsley. His lordship had assured him there would be no more. It was something of a pity, Sir Ephraim had added, such a volume might eventually prove to turn a tidy profit. Fiona had laughed with him, thanked him for his time and promptly taken her leave. Before the impact of his revelation could hit her and tear out her heart.

Was this the deception Judith had mentioned? That Jonathon had never planned on printing more than a handful ofA Fair Surrender in the first place? And if that was indeed true, how on earth could it provide the money she’d needed? Money that would come through Jonathon allegedly to preserve her anonymity.

I shall give you the money you would receive if you married. All of it. In advance, if you will, of sales of the book.

Or perhaps come from him?

I feel a certain obligation to help you avoid the fate you so very much wish to avoid. A heavy weight settled in her stomach.

You asked for rescue and I did not provide it. I have long thought of myself as an honorable man and I am not proud of my refusal.

The back of her throat stung with realization. How far would an honorable man go to assuage his guilt?

To redeem himself in his own eyes?

I shall have to marry you now.

Fiona had long said she’d never force any man into marriage. Not out of honor or obligation or responsibility. She’d said it and she’d meant it.

Now it was time to live up to her word.

“Where on earth can she be, Oliver?” Jonathon paced across Oliver’s parlor with one eye on the mantel clock. “I’ve been here nearly half an hour and no one seems to know where she has gone.”

Oliver shrugged. “I wish I could tell you, old man, but I have no idea. If you haven’t noticed thus far, my cousin has a mind of her own.” He studied the other man carefully. “I’m not at all surprised she managed to slip out of the house without anyone noting her departure.”

“Yes, yes, she’s quite skilled at doing precisely what she wants,” Jonathon said under his breath, ignoring the fact that it was that exact quality that had enabled Fiona to leave in the early morning hours to come to him. And, as Oliver had not met him at the door with a pistol in one hand and a minister by his side, Jonathon had assumed Fiona had managed to return home as surreptitiously as she had left. Not that it really mattered now. Jonathon paused and looked at his friend. “I wish to marry her, you know.”

“I assumed that, given the way you’ve not been able to stand still for more than a moment since your arrival. You have the look of a man about to jump off a cliff.” Oliver grinned. “It’s about time. I wondered what was taking you so long.”

Jonathon raised a brow. “You couldn’t have known it would come to this?”

“Oh, but I did. In truth, I never doubted it. After all, you had always said when you found the perfect woman—”

Jonathon snorted. “She is far from perfect. She is stubborn and determined and irritating. In many ways, she has no sense of propriety. Nude drawings of men, indeed. She’s extremely flirtatious and outspoken and…” He blew a long breath. “And she is indeed perfect for me. Exactly what I have always wanted in a wife.”

“It won’t be easy, you know. Having Fiona as a wife.”

“I don’t expect easy. I expect”—Jonathon smiled wryly—“passion. Hers and, yes, mine. Grand and glorious and forever.”

Oliver stared for a long moment.

“What now?” Jonathon rolled his gaze toward the ceiling.

“I’m simply thinking what a lot of money I could have made had I had the foresight to make one simple wager.” Oliver shook his head mournfully. “One should always follow one’s first instincts.”

“You could have taken Cavendish and Warton for a great deal,” Jonathon said in a dry manner. “My condolences that you did not do so.”

“Don’t be absurd. Neither of them would have wagered with me on this.” Oliver grinned. “The wager would have been with you.”

“So much for the loyalty of friends,” Jonathon muttered.

Oliver laughed and Jonathon smiled reluctantly. It was good to have friends, those he could count on no matter what might befall him.

A low murmur of voices sounded in the foyer.

“I believe that’s your intended now. Well, this is it.” Oliver slapped Jonathon on the back. “Best wishes, old man, and welcome to the family.”

Jonathon huffed. “You find this all most amusing, don’t you?”

“Only because it is.” Oliver chuckled and strode to the door. “I shall be in the foyer, awaiting the happy announcement of your betrothal.”

Jonathon patted his coat pocket as he had done a dozen times since he’d left his house to make certain his grandmother’s ring was still securely in its jeweler’s box. His heart thudded in his chest. Should he get down on one knee? Certainly a romantic gesture of some sort was called for. Damnation, why hadn’t he thought to bring flowers? Or chocolates? Or something? He groaned to himself. He simply hadn’t thought of anything beyond his express purpose. He was well used to charming a woman, but never with the intention of marriage. Bloody hell, he was an idiot. Again. The voices in the hall sounded louder. Surely Oliver wasn’t chastising Fiona for her absence? Jonathon chuckled. She would not take that at all well.

Fiona swept into the room, then stopped and slammed the door behind her. Jonathon winced. He certainly wouldn’t wish to be in Oliver’s shoes at the moment. He adopted his most charming smile. “Good day, Fiona.”

“Lord Helmsley.” Her voice was cool. Blast Oliver anyway for putting her in such a foul mood. Well, Jonathon knew one sure way to improve her disposition.

He drew a deep breath. “Fiona, I wish to ask you a question.”

“What a startling coincidence, my lord, as I wish to ask a question as well.” Her green eyes glittered.

“Several questions, in fact.”

“They can wait. Fiona…” His nerve faltered. He waved at the sofa. “Perhaps you would like to sit down?”

“I prefer to stand,” she said sharply.

“Very well.” He laughed weakly. “But it’s going to make things a bit awkward when I am down on bended knee.”

She raised a brow. “And you will be on bended knee to beg my forgiveness?”

“No,” he said slowly. Perhaps Oliver wasn’t the target of her anger after all. “My intention was to ask if you will do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Why?” He stared at her. No, Oliver definitely wasn’t the target of her anger. “After this morning—”

“This morning?”

“Yes, well, after you and I…” He shook his head in confusion. “Damn it all, Fiona, you know what I am trying to say.”

“Do I? I’m not the least bit sure of that.” She studied him coldly. “Allow me to ask you a question.”

“Of course.” He racked his brains trying to think of what he might have done to invoke her wrath. Certainly when she’d left him this morning there had been nothing amiss. In fact, everything was quite wonderful between them. Or at least he’d thought it was.